


Trade your broken wings for mine

by fandammit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dad!Kane, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandammit/pseuds/fandammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arkadia rebuilds. A series of semi-connected ficlets post-City of Light. General fic with a healthy dose of Kabby, both as main characters and background characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John Murphy, reluctant medical assistant

Even though he was never exactly a star student, John also paid enough attention to remember the medicinal plants. Emori also has a habit of pointing out random plants in the forest that he isn’t familiar with - sometimes medicinal, sometimes recreational, sometimes poisonous - and telling him about them. It’s knowledge he keeps tucked away in the back of his head, locked away in the ‘just in case’ part of his brain that’s kept him alive these last six months.

At least, that’s where he intends on keeping it.

Until one night in the mess when Abby sits just within earshot of him and starts discussing the dwindling supply of medicine with Kane. She sounds increasingly worried about a grounder child that’s just come in with an infected wound and a high fever. After a few minutes of twisting his hands and pretending he doesn’t hear, he finally stands and walks over to them.

“Sage,” he says impatiently, without introduction. “It’ll help with the infection. And feverfew. For the fever, obviously.”

Abby raises her eyebrow at him.

“I’m assuming these are plants.”

He nods.

“What do they look like? Where can I find them?”

He gives her a withering stare.

“Didn’t you pay attention in Earth Skills?”

Kane gives a snort of laughter that quickly turns into a cough at the first hint of a glare from Abby. John smirks at him before turning his gaze back to Abby and sighing heavily.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he drawls out. “Like mother, like daughter, I guess.”

She quirks her eyebrow at him, then tilts her head thoughtfully in his direction.

“I take it you paid enough attention to know what they look like.” At his nod, the corners of her mouth turn up. “And I’m assuming you’ve seen them around - otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered to tell us.”

“Yeah, they’re - .”

She waves a hand as if to shoo away the words.

“Just meet me here tomorrow morning at 7:30. We’ll go gather some together, then you can help me in medical.” 

He furrows his brow at her.

“Wait a second, I didn’t say anything about doing either of those things.”

She levels an even stare at him.

“John.” He starts at the sound of his name. He didn’t even know she knew his first name. “Do you really want to take the chance that I pick the wrong plants, administer them incorrectly, and accidentally hurt the child?”

A ready, sarcastic reply is on the tip of his tongue - something about not really caring either way. But the look on Abby’s face steals it from him; he knows that she wouldn’t believe it because she would know that he didn’t, either.

So he just sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He goes back to his seat, scoots further down so he doesn’t accidentally hear any other parts of their conversation that will force him into any other tasks he doesn’t want to do.

Just as he stands to go - Emori is waiting for him in the greenhouse by now - a strange trick of acoustics sends a snippet of Kane’s words in his direction.

“…and nice job with Murphy, by the way. I didn’t think that’d actually work.”

He turns sharply towards the two, sees Abby grinning smugly at Kane before she reaches over and swipes the last piece of fried zucchini off of his plate.

He starts to walk over to them to tell Abby that he’s changed his mind - he’d rather sleep in with Emori - when he catches her next words.

“He has talent, Marcus. You didn’t see him - in Polis. I was really impressed. He just needs someone to believe in him.”

He sighs heavily and drops his head. Rubs the back of his neck as something warm - something strangely like pride - spreads across his chest. He turns back towards the door, shrugs away thoughts of sleeping in.

He’s always been a morning person, anyway.


	2. Lost in translation

He makes it a habit to visit the Eden Tree at least twice a week, now. Finds comfort in the fact that something of the Ark has survived untainted and unaffected by the horrors of the ground.

When she has the time, Abby comes with him and they switch off telling stories of his mother, of the Ark, of a time that is simpler only in memory. 

Today, he walks there alone. He’d left just as Abby had begun prepping a guardsman for surgery - a relatively simple procedure, but one that Murphy would be assisting in for the first time. He’s lost in thought, musing on the surprising quickness that Murphy’s taken to assisting Abby, when a figure materializes quickly and silently before him. 

“You should be more alert to your surroundings, Kane,” Indra admonishes him, as she extends her hand in greeting. “Traveling is more dangerous, now, without the coalition.”

He nods, then reaches out to clasp her arm in his own. 

There are no longer bloodied wraps around her wrists as there had been when he’d said goodbye to her in Polis, but the scars are raised, merciless things that make him flinch anyway. 

She hears his sharp intake of breath, meets the apologetic look in his eyes with a firm shake of her head. Her grip tightens on his arm. 

“One apology is enough, my friend. We’re past it.” 

He wants to shake his head, feels the shape of his remorse in the back of his throat, but her look is resolute and her tone leaves no space for argument. So instead he nods, swallows back his guilt, and nods in return. 

She releases his arm and relaxes her stance, leans against a tree to the right of him. 

“You seem well,” she comments, “better than when I last saw you, at the very least.” 

He ducks his head and smiles. 

“As do you, Indra.” 

She nods. 

“Abby, she is well?” 

He nods. 

“She is.” 

“And the two of you, together.” It’s a declarative statement, but she glances at him as though she’s asked a question. There’s a look of quiet amusement on her face that brings a smile to his face. 

“We are also doing well.” 

She allows herself a small upturn of her lips before she nods at him. 

“Good.” 

She reaches into the pack at her side and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. 

“This is a new map of the most current trading routes and occupied trading posts. I would’ve given it to you sooner, but Octavia wanted to go to each one and see how friendly it might be to Skaikru. She made notes on the map for you.”

He perks up at the sound of her name, feels warm affection spread through him as he looks down at her notes on the map. Part of him had worried that any bit of fondness or affection for them had died along with Lincoln. Now, looking at her firm, slanting handwriting - he knows that at least enough of it remains. 

They’re quiet for a moment; then, when he can’t help it any longer - 

“How is she? Octavia.” 

Indra pushes herself up from tree she’s leaning on and crosses her arms. When she speaks, he can tell that she’s picking her words carefully. 

“Working through her grief, in her own way. Different, now, than when you last saw her.” 

He nods slowly, worry bubbling up in him. He wants to ask what she means, but can tell by the look on her face that she’ll reveal nothing else. 

He sighs. 

“She’s always welcome back to Arkadia - even just to visit - if she wants.”   
Indra nods. 

“She will, when she’s ready.” 

He sighs, then packs up the map into his backpack. When he turns back around, Indra extends her arm to him. 

“Farewell for now, Kane. I’ll be at the traveler’s market in another half-month, if you need me.” 

He shakes her hand, then reaches around to give her a one-armed hug. 

“Goodbye, Indra. Thank you for the map. And tell Octavia thank you, too.” 

“I will.” She hesitates from the briefest moment, then reaches over and claps him on the shoulder. “And send my regards to your houmon.” 

She turns and walks quickly into the woods, leaving him to turn the word over in his mind. When he finally places it, he laughs aloud - more from surprise and embarrassment than from actual mirth. 

“Indra,” he says loudly. She turns to face him, but continues to walk backwards away from him. The distance does nothing to hide the look of teasing amusement on her face. “You know that Abby and I...that we...she isn’t my wife.” 

“And whose doing is that?” She calls out, a truly mischievous look on her face. Before he can reply, she barks out a laugh at the look on his face, then disappears into the woods completely.


	3. Can we keep him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus brings home a dog. Abby isn't pleased, right up until she is.

He doesn’t mean for it to happen. 

(That’s what he tells Abby, anyway.) 

It’s just - 

What was he supposed to do - attempt to lose it somewhere on his way home? Order it to stay away? Try to threaten or frighten or intimidate it until it left him alone? 

“Yes,” Abby says, exasperated, “any one of those options would’ve been preferable to this.” 

She’s staring at him with a look that’s a cross between bewilderment and impatience. She’s very pointedly ignoring looking at his feet. 

Or rather, what’s currently lying at his feet, head propped up on its front paws. 

“Abby, it’s a dog. People used to have them all the time as pets. And - both the Shallow Valley and Plains Riders clans use them for protection and as workers.” He tilts his head and gives her a falsely unaffected look. “Those are two things we could definitely use around here, too.” 

“Do you even know how to take care of a dog? How to train one?” 

“Well, I -” At her raised brow, he spreads his hands before him plaintively. “I mean, I can learn, right?” 

She crosses her arms and tilts her head at him, a thoroughly unimpressed look on her face. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m - .” He can feel a sheen of sweat start to form across his forehead, though thankfully it’s hidden by the curl of his hair. The feel of it almost makes him laugh aloud; he’d spent years arguing with Abby across a councilor’s table over actual issues of life and death without once batting an eye or breaking a sweat only to be undone by a simple domestic squabble over a dog. 

That thought frees the tension from his body. He shrugs his shoulders and gives what he hopes is an especially charming grin. 

“Abby, I’ll figure it out. I am actually quite intelligent, you know.” 

She snorts and shakes her head at him, though she can’t hide the hint of a smile that flits over her lips. He widens his grin into a bright smile before turning his expression serious. 

“There’s an almost absurdly large amount of books on dogs that we salvaged from Mount Weather. There’s information in our datapads. And, I’ll go out and make a concerted effort to talk to any dog handlers I can find at the traveling markets and trading posts. Just wait - in 3 months, this dog will be better trained than any of the kids.”

She still looks skeptical, but manages to give him a short, slow nod. She uncrossed her arms and rests both her palms on the tops of her thighs. 

“How do you know he isn't dangerous?”

Now it’s his turn to level an impressed look in her direction. 

“Abby, you know I never would've brought him into camp, much less into the same room with you, if I thought that was even remotely possible.”

She looks chagrined as she nods at him. Bites her lip and looks up to the left as though mentally ticking through some mental checklist because, yes, of course she would. 

“What about disease? Does he have ticks, fleas, some kind of unknown virus that’s going to sweep through the camp? We’re not exactly flush with antibiotics these days and - ”

She stops as a gleeful grin starts to creep across his face. 

“Marcus!” She says, unable to contain the rise of her voice. “How is this your reaction right now?” 

He can’t help it - he laughs. The downturn of her lips twists into a ferocious glare as he claps both hands over his mouth, then raises his eyebrows apologetically at her. He swallows back his laugh and aims the most apologetic look he can currently muster at her. 

“Abby, I’m sorry. It’s just - look.”

He gestures down at her knee. 

She squints at him and furrows her brows for an instant before looking down, catches her own traitorous hand idly petting the head of the dog - which had somehow come to rest his head on her knee while they’d been talking. 

Her expression morphs into one of incredulity before she presses her lips together tightly in what he’s almost sure is an attempt to keep from smiling. The dog whines softly when her hand stills, moves to gently nudge her hand with the top of his head. She runs her hand over the dog’s head and down his ears, settles her fingers behind them and scratches softly. The dog lets out a huff of air that Marcus swears sounds like a sigh of contentment and looks up at Abby with an expression that can quite possibly only be described as adoring. 

He can almost see the last of Abby’s resistance crumble in the face of the dog’s wide eyed, hopeful stare. The dog must, too, because in the next moment he licks Abby's hand, then springs up to lay next to her on the couch. The dog drops his head full into Abby’s lap and lets out another long, forceful breath before closing his eyes. 

Abby reaches up and slowly begins petting the dog, alternates a few behind the ear scratches that sets off a drumbeat of tail wagging. She smiles softly down at the dog, then looks up at him with a wry look of defeat. 

“Did you plan this?”

He throws his head back and laughs. 

“I wish I could say I’d already trained the dog that well.” 

He walks over and sits down next to her, rests one arm lightly around her shoulder and reaches over to pet the dog with his other hand. After a moment, she leans into him and lays her head on his shoulder. 

“So, what are we going to call him?” 

He smiles and turns his head to drop a kiss into her hair, heart thrumming with tenderness. There’s still something slightly incredible about the way they’ve folded so completely into one another’s lives. The simple assumption that even in this easy, mundane thing they will work as one is something that makes him absurdly happy. 

“We’ll figure something out,” he finally says after a long, thoughtful moment. Then, an idea occurs to him. “We could always the kids decide.” 

Abby huffs a laugh and shakes her head. 

“I’d rather not have to spend the rest of this dog’s life calling him ‘Dog’ or ‘Sir Slobbers’ or something equally ridiculous.” 

He chuckles, is about to joke that Dog isn’t such a bad name when Abby shifts and looks up at him. 

“Oh and Marcus?” He looks down at her and raises an eyebrow. “You know that once the kids see that you have a dog, they’ll all want one, too.” 

He furrows his brow and grimaces, remembers the constant pointed requests after he’d gotten Octavia her horse. 

“So, what do we tell them?” 

She lifts her head from his shoulder and shoots him an amused look. 

“I’ll leave that particular bit of cleverness to you.”


End file.
